


Furious

by elleisforlovee



Series: (None Of It Will Be) Worth It [4]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Gendrya - Freeform, angry! gendry, class conflict, forge fury, lord and lady of the stormlands, old insecurities, part of the exhale universe, reasonable! arya, references to the past, the stormlands - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:35:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21718531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elleisforlovee/pseuds/elleisforlovee
Summary: “It’s...you know how they talk, Gendry. It’s silly. It doesn’t mean anything.”“No? It means they can take all of this away, Arya,” he said, raising his hands in the air as if to gesture to all they’d built in their castle and beyond. “It means I can be kicked out of my home.”“You? Where would I go? Would I be staying?” She sipped at her ale. “I didn’t realize I came with the castle. I thought I just so happened to marry the man who inherited it.”[A letter arrives to the Storm's End causing Arya to regret ever teaching Gendry to read. Part of the *Exhale* universe.]
Relationships: Arya Stark & Gendry Waters, Arya Stark/Gendry Waters
Series: (None Of It Will Be) Worth It [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1362352
Comments: 37
Kudos: 130





	Furious

**Author's Note:**

  * For [foxxandbeanz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxxandbeanz/gifts).



> This is an early Christmas gift for my favorite fellow trash human, foxxandbeanz!
> 
> MERRY FRIGGIN' CHRISTMAS, QUEEN COLLY! You mean the world to me and I'm so very thankful for your friendship. I honestly probably wouldn't still be in this fandom if it weren't for you. I adore you so much, YOU BEAUTIFUL LAND MERMAID. Thanks for keeping me sane and for not judging me when I say mean things. 
> 
> Potatoes forever. 
> 
> #GendryaIOS

_ No.  _

_ This is insane.  _

_ But, of course. Because why not? _

“What do you think of this?” Gendry asked aloud, essentially dismissing his internal anger, or at least putting it on a temporary hold, as he turned to his wife. He wished the letter he’d set down before Arya made a sound more indicative of all the weight it held. Instead it sustained its creases, each folded end manipulated by the wind that blew in through the window off the sea. 

Arya leaned forward to take a look. When she did not recognize the script she side-eyed Gendry and with a slight sigh, picked the letter up. On the other side of the table, Davos sat watching intently. 

She read the letter, wondering then why she’d ever taught her husband to read. When nonsense and gossip existed surrounding their union and the way they ran their lands, it always seemed to come to them in passive aggressive notes from acquaintances that swore they were friends. 

“It’s...well what do you want me to say?”

Gendry deflated, nearly grabbing the letter back. “That’s comforting.”

“Gendry?” She didn’t reach out to touch his shoulder but she wanted to. 

“I want the truth, Arya,” he spat. Then, he exhaled. “Always.”

There was a single pause. A blink of discomfort etched itself across Arya’s forehead before fleeing. “It’s not comforting,” she corrected, referring to the letter. “It’s...you know how they talk, Gendry. It’s silly. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“No? It means they can take all of this away, Arya,” he said, raising his hands in the air as if to gesture to all they’d built in their castle and beyond. “It means I can be kicked out of my home.”

“You? Where would I go? Would I be staying?” She sipped at her ale. “I didn’t realize I came with the castle. I thought I just so happened to marry the man who inherited it.”

Gendry shook his head. The letter was back on the table and he slapped at it with the back of his hand. If his fingers hadn’t been so rough from their constant time spent near flame, the force of his emphasis may have been more painful. “Arya, this isn’t funny.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re overreacting. Nothing will happen to us. The people love you. You’re a great ruler and that matters now. Bran has seen to it.”

“But it was the Mad Queen who put me in power.”

“Tradition is still tradition, Gendry. Bran has made it clear what he intends to uphold and what he’s disregarding. And let me repeat, your people love their Lord.”

Arya had softened considerably. She was constantly able to transition between humor and solemnity as if the two weren’t completely contradictory emotions. Gendry assumed it was a trait she’d picked up from the Faceless Men, a time in Arya’s life he was almost too knowledgeable of now. Or, maybe it was just her resilience, her ability to be what the people in her life needed most, often times at the detriment to her own comfort. She’d made sacrifices for her people, and certainly made sacrifices for her family. Gendry believed she made the most concessions for him, a nagging belief he’d held before this letter arrived, announcing efforts to name some of Robert Baratheon’s more suitable heirs as Lord of the Stormlands.

~!~

When Arya found Gendry he was exactly where she imagined him, barehanded in the forge hammering at a glowing orange piece of steel. If she had to guess, it was a knife or an axe or maybe even a sickle meant to be a welcome gift to their newest tenant farmers. The steel could be forged into anything. It was still hot, still malleable. There was even the option for Gendry to heat it up and start again. 

Arya advanced cautiously. She’d done this before, stood by and watched while Gendry hammered away at metal. She’d done it too many times, actually, and almost every time she observed with admiration in her eyes. Today was only slightly different; Arya always admired Gendry and the talent he had for his craft, but today concern furrowed her brow too. The hammering in her chest and the uneasy way she fidgeted with her hands only increased as she grew nearer. 

“Gendry?”

A whistle of steel on steel syncopated the moment, causing sparks to fly. Gendry looked up, revealing himself to Arya not as a Lord but as the young man she originally fell in love with. His face was covered in soot but those blinding blue eyes of his shone even when he was clearly fighting a smile. In an instant he wiped at his brow with the inside of his elbow and returned to his task. 

“Gendry,” Arya pleaded this time. 

Gendry remained in position, but he did not bring his arm back to continue the repetitive force he’d been bestowing on his newest project. Arya exhaled. For just a moment she looked to the floor of the forge then back up again. If Gendry was still looking to Arya he would have seen the small smirk she forced and how it forced her eyes to crease and her cheeks to rose. 

“I, uh, I heard Lord Baratheon stormed out of his solar this morning.”

Gendry didn’t turn around. He also didn’t return to his work. “Did he?”

“Yeah.”

From her position behind him, Arya saw the way Gendry’s shoulders rose and fell. “What did the Lady of the castle have to say about that?” He looked over his shoulder, but only barely. “Was she mad?”

Arya swallowed. It wasn’t a smile she was fighting but actual tears, ones that welled up her eyes quickly and now had breathing feeling like a hand was curled around her neck, constricting her windpipe. “No, not mad.”

Gendry stiffened. Still, he wouldn’t turn around. “No?”

“More concerned, I think.”

It was this, the sound of Arya’s voice cracking, that had Gendry spinning toward her. He left the hot steel upon the anvil and walked toward her with his hammer still in his hand. Soon though that was gone too, dropped in the bucket so carelessly that water sloshed out and dripped down to the dirt for many moments after Gendry stood before Arya, both looking at one another, just waiting for the other to speak. 

“Concerned?”

Arya nodded with the energy of a little girl being forced to take blame. 

“So you agree then? And you don’t think I was being crazy? You think this could all happen, they could take this away from us?”

“What?” Arya balked. “Gendry, I...no!” she bellowed. “You think...” It wasn’t the rest of the sentence but a laugh instead, one that gave speed to the tear that slipped out of Arya’s eye, down the curve of her cheek. “I’m not concerned about the letter, you idiot! I’m concerned about you. My husband.”

“What?”

“God, you’re infuriating sometimes!”

Gendry took a step back. “Arya...”

“It’s well past midnight. I wanted to know why my husband hadn’t returned to bed yet. I couldn’t care less about that silly letter. I care about you, Gendry! And if this bothers you then we should talk about it.”

“It does bother me! And it bothers me still that you’re not bothered by it! Don’t you care? All of this could go to shit, Arry! I could lose this.”

“You? Again, I’ll ask why it would just be you losing anything. Last I checked I also spent my morning collecting taxes and handling grievances. If you lose this life then surely I do too.”

“You...I...” His nostrils flared. Arya didn’t know if Gendry was upset with her or the words he couldn’t seem to speak. 

“What? Say it,” she spat, now with arms crossed over her chest. 

“You know what I mean to say so I don’t know why it matters.”

“Say it,” Arya repeated, much more slowly this time. The bite in her voice did not disappear and if anything the sorrow from earlier seemed to have been replaced with a propensity toward snark. 

“This life will never leave you, Arya!”

“I beg your pardon? It most certainly will! It has! Time and time again! And if someone comes in and claims rights to the lands we’ve been given then—”

“I’ve been given, Arya.”

Her mouth was open, her jaw dropped wide and locked there. “Excuse me? The Stormlands are just as much mine as they are yours! You said—”

“If you don’t have the Stormlands, you have Winterfell, Arya! Hell, you’d even have King’s Landing! If I lose the Stormlands then I have nothing, do you understand?”

Arya’s brow furrowed and she shook her head, slowly then with more conviction as the thoughts in her head continued to take stubborn root. “Is that what you think? That you have nothing? That I’m here because of what you’ve inherited? Do you know me at all?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth, Arya! I know that’s not why you’re here but...”

“But what? For fucks sake, Gendry, just say what you mean! No worries about offending me,” she yelled. “We’re past that!”

“You’re offended? My reign is being called into question! Right when the Stormlands are just starting to prosper. When we’ve finally been able to put plans into place that are successful and the people are happy and we’re not so goddamn tired all the bloody time. And why? Because I’m a bastard? I didn’t ask for any of this! But it’s mine now and I’ll be damned if someone like Edric Storm comes in here and takes it from me.”

“Edric has lands of his own. He’d be stupid to want the Stormlands.”

Gendry was too worked up to realize that his rant had Arya oddly calm. From a certain angle she almost looked amused. “Why wouldn’t he? Isn’t that the goal? They take and they take and they—”

“And what if they do, Gendry? What then? The world doesn’t stop! And I’m torn between being offended and angry that you think otherwise!”

“Good! Then be offended and be angry! It’s what I feel—”

“No!” Arya shouted. She reached out for him and found herself grappling with air. Gendry had already turned away from her and was walking back toward the coals. Arya went to him, her feet just as erratic as the hands she pressed to his arm, demanding he come back. “No, Gendry! That’s not fair! You’re being bullheaded!”

“I’m always bullheaded! Just like you’re always a pain in my ass! It’s how we work!”

“Exactly!” Arya screamed. “It’s how we work! Because we’re a team! If anything happens to you, it happens to me.”

Gendry was already looking down. The anger from moments ago dissipated to pure disappointment. “And if it was anyone else, it wouldn’t be happening, Arya,” he stated simply. “It’d be happening to both of us but it would be my fault. They want to get rid of me because I’m a bastard. Most days the only reason people think I can do this is because of you and Davos. Do you know how much pressure that is? I know you don’t think that a man is supposed to provide but I am. You’re my wife. You’re right, we are a team. But the world expects different things. And maybe that bothers them too. But at the end of the day they’re not looking to challenge my title because of Arya Stark. They’re doing it because of Gendry Waters.”

“Gendry, no...” she nearly whispered, all with a palm placed to his cheek. He looked to her and they both waited, breathing in the smoke still wisping up from the dying heat of the coals. Arya’s hand would be stained with the scent and color of Gendry’s work but she didn’t mind. 

“What do I do?”

“Nothing. There’s nothing you can do.” Arya’s hand drifted down, resting on the curve of his neck where his doublet met his skin. 

“I just let them come in here and—”

“No, of course not. This is our home. And who’s to say anyone will be coming? It was one letter, written to Davos by a friend, explaining gossip. People talk, Gendry. We don’t have to listen.”

“Yeah, well, I wish Davos had kept it to himself.”

“And have you be surprised?”

“I thought you said the threat wasn’t real?”

Arya sighed. Her hand floated away. “It’s not. And even if it were, we could challenge it back. I meant what I said Gendry. Your people love you. Not everyone can say that. That means so much. And your people know what you’re capable of and that you care and they believe those things whether me or Davos are standing by your side. We both could disappear and you’d be fine.”

Gendry looked up. “Please don’t.”

Arya breathed out a giggle. “I won’t. I don’t intend to. Ever,” she said, her voice full of finality as she was once again standing before Gendry, her hand to his cheek. In response he wrapped an arm around her to keep her close. She looked small in his arms and when his hand splayed upon her waist, the width of it covered nearly from her rib cage to her hip. 

When their lips met, neither knew who initiated the kiss. It didn’t matter, just like it was of no importance when Arya gripped Gendry’s face and asked for more of what he was already so willing to give. Around them the night was still. It was a welcomed change from their argument and if either were of clearer mind they would have realized how likely it was that their words were heard by those who worked in the castle and lived just beyond it. 

They remained like that for several moments, all of them fleeting, taking with them the bliss that had them forgetting about their heated words. Breathless, Arya dropped her head down, suddenly unable to look at Gendry even after they’d spent so much time with eyes closed as lips explored. 

“Gendry...”

“Yeah?”

“It’s important...I need to hear you say that you get that....it just hurts me to think that...”

“Arya?” His voice was soft and his forehead creased. Gendry lifted Arya’s chin with the help of his own forefinger. His cloudy complexion in contrast with her milky skin. 

“It just seems like...you make it seem like the reason I joined you here was because of your title...as if I wouldn’t have left Dragonstone and gone anywhere else in the world if you were just Gendry the Blacksmith. I guess we never talked about it...probably because I thought we didn’t need to. But...you know this has nothing to do with it. If it were up to me...you know this isn’t the life I wanted.”

“What?”

“I’m not trying to be cruel, Gendry, but you knew that. This was never my dream. _ You _ were my dream. I wanted  _ you _ . I wanted you and the life we’d build together. I just...I don’t care if you’re a lord or a blacksmith or whatever else you want to be. I just want to be by your side and I need you to be by my side and not doubt me. You just make it seem like if they take your inheritance away that I’d go too and...” Words stuck in her throat as they battled with the tears she was once again fighting. Arya shook her head, dismissing them, her mouth almost twisted in anger. “No. Say it, Gendry. Say—”

He kissed her instead. Gendry knew she’d be angry when she came to her senses but this embrace was stronger, full of more want and more pain when they finally broke apart. 

Arya’s head was spinning, but slowly her eyes fluttered open. “Gendry...”

“I...yeah,” he conceded with a sigh. “I...I know you’re not going anywhere.”

“Do you? Because you don’t sound very convinced.”

“I do. Of course I do. I just...sometimes I wake up and you’re beside me and we’re safe and we’re in this big featherbed that for once I actually fit in and it’s just crazy to me. I’m still shocked this is my life. I’m still scared shitless to really let myself enjoy it because I’m not used to having nice things. Every great thing I’ve ever had has been ripped from my hands.”

“Well sometimes the good things come back.”

Gendry’s eyes shot up. “Huh?”

“Sometimes,” Arya repeated more slowly, “the good things come back. I came back to you. You came back to me. That’s what matters. And if this all goes to shit then that’s okay. I’ll still be here. We’ll figure it out.”

“How can you be so calm?”

“Because you’re right...I wake up some days and can’t believe this is my life either. You’re not the only one who thinks this all feels like a dream. But I know I can do it because you’re by my side. Because I married my best friend and I get to take care of a kingdom with my best friend. And because my best friend and I have been through much, much worse.”

“That’s hardly—”

“Gendry,” her voice warned. 

“Right. You’re right,” he attempted instead, causing Arya to giggle. 

“So if they come here tomorrow and everything changes, I’m okay with that. They can’t take me away from you and that’s what’s important to me. They can have Storm’s End and the castle and our too-big featherbed. That’s not why I’m here. I could...” She inhaled sharply. “I could love you anywhere.”

~!~

If any of the smallfolk heard them arguing, Arya hoped they also witnessed the aftermath where Gendry wrapped a strong arm around her and the two walked into the castle together. Behind them the forge cooled down, and Gendry’s half-complete axe held its shape, awaiting its creator’s return.

Together they shared small smiles with the servants they passed. The Lord and Lady existed as a single unit as they climbed staircases and existed with one another as if they didn’t carry an entire kingdom on their shoulders. Even on the worst of nights, those that followed the worst of days, the moonlight dismissed all strife and allowed Arya and Gendry to take up space without titles — without apologies. They were Arry and the bullheaded blacksmith or the girl who killed the night king and the brooding boy that was brave enough to love her. 

Tonight they were just Arya and Gendry. There was too much exhaustion in their bones, shown in the way they welcomed the servant girls that set out washing bowls and turned down their bed. They were tasks Gendry usually insisted be forgotten but Arya was fond of the comforts and always hesitant to admit it. When she got into bed she found her sheets had been heated up too. Arya wiggled her toes beneath their stitched linens, leaning back against the headboard to admire Gendry as he undressed. He was just as impressive to her here as he was out in the forge. Now every muscle, every inch of him that previously hammered through an untamable anger was bare to Arya, calmed down by her own words but forever hesitant to yield completely. 

Gendry stood at the bowl that had been laid out for him, another bowl and a large pitcher of water sitting just beside it. There were towels too - several of them, all so indescribably soft. Before this life Gendry didn’t know such comforts existed but now, like Arya and her warmed bed, he was hesitant to admit just how much he adored the accommodation. Gendry never thought he’d be this way, mostly because he never saw himself becoming the very nobility he used to hate. He also never saw himself loving a girl like Arya — he certainly didn’t see her loving him back. 

It was almost ritualistic then, the way Gendry rolled his wrists around the bar of soap he’d been provided, causing an oily lather to begin eating away at the soot and grime that covered the skin of his hands. Almost immediately there was a demarcation between where he’d done the washing and where he hadn’t. It rolled down the hair on his arms in a thick and milky grey color before landing in the bowl. Gendry poured the smallest amount of water on each of his hands, switching the pitcher back and forth between his left and his right, until finally even most of the dirt beneath his fingernails was gone. Then began the real work, that of removing all smoke and ash that originally billowed off the coals and stuck to his complexion like a hug from an old friend. The heat was a comfort, and a match for his seething mood. It felt far more familiar than the cloth that had been laid out for him to wash up with. 

“Here…” Gendry heard Arya’s soft voice nearly cracking before he realized what she was offering. It was her small fist curled around one of those lovely washcloths, dotting at the skin of his nape, along the curve of his hairline. “You need a haircut,” she deduced, and when she spoke Gendry smiled so she smiled too. 

“Grab the knife,” he suggested. 

Arya snickered. Gendry felt her breath upon his back as she continued her gentle motions, scrubbing the day from her husband’s skin, ringing out the cloth that collected proof of his work, all before starting again. 

“You know your hair always looks ridiculous when I do it,” Arya reminded matter of factly. 

Gendry gripped the edge of the table and dropped his head down, staring at the smooth and shiny grain of the wood. “You’re the only one I trust to hold a blade to my neck without killing me.”

There was a pause. Then Arya leaned forward and pressed her mouth to Gendry’s shoulder. He nearly shied away. He was shocked by her tenderness, almost feeling unworthy of the way her lips loved his skin. Gendry figured they could be married for a thousand years and he’d still feel the same way. And he felt this way often, wondering how they’d ever survived and how they’d found their way back to one another again. It all felt so surreal he wondered how Arya could even question his rationale. Despite all of the utter  _ shit _ they’d endured, they survived — their love survived. Was it really insane to think that it could crumble any minute? After the world had afforded them so many chances? 

But it was one of the roles Arya so willingly accepted when she became Lady of Storm’s End: settle grievances, set and collect taxes, and calm her husband’s fears. The truth was that she didn’t think he was insane or disloyal for thinking that everything could someday disappear. Arya actually agreed with him, because she was a realistic person and because she knew far too well that the Old Gods only afforded everyone so many days. For as many horrible, gut-wrenching days, Arya knew she also had far many wonderful ones and that for many of them, Gendry stood by her side. If the price she had to pay was that of dismissing his insecurities, Arya figured it was something she could afford. Especially considering that on days he wasn’t so stuck in his head, Gendry believed in her more than he believed in himself. It was a love Arya had only experienced as a little girl from the father she almost had trouble placing in her memories. With Gendry, she knew it was a love she’d never encounter again — a love most weren’t afforded. 

“Finish washing up,” Arya whispered. “I’m exhausted and I meant what I said; I’m not going to bed until I know my husband is safe and content by my side.”

She hadn’t realized but her hand had fallen to Gendry’s side and in the moments it took for her breathing to return to normal, Gendry’s fingers had somehow intertwined with her own, as if agreeing with all the thoughts she was having. He released her grip and her hand floated away, the loss of contact causing him to reach out for the dresser once more as the ache in his bones settled back in. Even on better days, Gendry couldn’t deny that he was stronger because of Arya. 

With her gone, Gendry opened his eyes and continued to wash the forge from his skin. The bowl before him was nearly overflowing with mucky water by the time he was finished and the towel that had been placed out for him was ruined with evidence of the same. Gendry placed both items outside their chamber doors before padding off to bed. It was an effort to aid the servants with their morning tasks and also an insistence that they allow Arya and he to have a lie in. Thunder rolled in off the coast as it so often did, and collecting rent or goods from tenants was useless in a storm anyway. 

Gendry blew out the candles that lit the path from the door to their bed. In the new darkness with his skin smelling of soap, he pulled up the covers and slipped into bed beside Arya. She was laying on her side, her hands clasped beneath her head, but she turned over onto her back as he moved closer. Above them the moonlight filtered in through the window as a crack of thunder roared in the distance. Soon the entire kingdom would be covered in rain but until then things were still. 

“I think under different circumstances that the Riverlands might not be a bad place, y’know?” her voice whispered through the silence.

Gendry’s brow furrowed but he donated his confusion to the ceiling after the briefest of glances toward his wife. “What?”

“I do think about it sometimes. Us leaving. Not because we’re driven out by some stupid inheritance decree but because maybe we’re shit at this and we don’t know and we actually care about these people so we’d be the only Lord and Lady in the entire history of Westeros to do what’s best for their Kingdom...and leave.”

Gendry snorted. “You’re nuts.” Arya beamed as if he’d said something else:  _ you’re beautiful _ , maybe. It was all the same. 

She inhaled before continuing. “I mean, sure, Winterfell would be the easy choice. We’d get to see Jon. I’d get to listen to you complain about the cold…” Her voice trailed off. Gendry could almost hear her smiling. “Too many eyes though. Not nearly enough privacy.”

He chuckled. “You really have thought this through, haven’t you?”

“Some days I think it’d be nice to run away—”

This had Gendry snapping his head in her direction, his hand instinctively searching for her skin beneath the sheets. “Huh?”

“With you. It’d be nice to run away  _ with you _ ,” she repeated, feeling ridiculous for having to. “I have that urge. I think I’ll always have that urge. It’s in my nature now. But I don’t. I don’t run for the same reason that I escaped Dragonstone to come to the Stormlands.”

Gendry didn’t have to guess. His hand remained on Arya’s hip but he looked back to the ceiling. “Me?”

“You.”

There was a pause, a prolonged beat, emphasized by a flash of lightning that illuminated their room before casting them in shadow again. “I go where you go now. Pack mentality.”

Again he nodded, his head moving against his pillow with minor hesitation. 

“I used to think Winterfell was home, you know? And it was. It is. It always will be. But it wasn’t home because it’s where I was born. It was home because it’s where my family lived. But now we’re scattered. Jon’s beyond the Wall. Sansa’s a bloody Queen. Bran’s a King.”

“You’re a Lady,” Gendry pointed out, wearing a smirk. 

“I’m a fucking Lady,” she agreed in drawl. A giggle brushed past her lips too, and it must have surprised Arya because she reached up to cover her mouth. When her attempt at dismissing such a childlike, almost whimsical response failed, Arya gave a deep sigh. “I’m a lady and you’re my Lord and above all else you’re my family, Gendry.”

“Arya, I—”

“You are. What I said all those years ago? I meant it. I meant it then and I mean it now. You’re my family and this is our home. And if someday we have to leave this place, then so be it. You’ll still be my family and wherever we go, that’ll be our home. So when I say that I’m not worried about any of this, it’s not to belittle what you’re feeling. It just means that we’ve been through worse and wherever we go, things will be fine because you’ll be by my side. We’ll be fine if we’re together.”

Gendry was smiling, and the grip he had on Arya’s hip had shifted, the two now completed connected as fingers intertwined and Arya’s words brought them inexplicably close. Finally: “How long have you been sitting on that speech?”

Arya sputtered out a chuckle. “I try not to get too sentimental but apparently this stupid letter really messed you up so I figured it was worth a shot.”

Gendry laughed. “Well...I love you,” he said with a sigh.

Arya didn’t hesitate. She rolled into Gendry and immediately wrapped her arm around him. He softened beneath her, his chest giving a pronounced rise and fall as if to acknowledge her proximity. His words were intimate, and as sentimental as any he’d ever spoken before. It was everything she wished to hear from him so many years ago and now something she was blessed with daily. It meant the most to her when they were like this, so close to slumber but knowing sleep would come easier if they rid themselves of one last promise. 

“I love you too,” Arya lilted in return. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!!
> 
> This is Holiday Fic 1 of 5. I plan to post the rest intermittently between now and Christmas. 
> 
> Follow me on tumblr for updates/overall shit-posting: elleisforlovee.tumblr.com


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